Grim Tales: Dragon Age
by dominicgrim
Summary: A series of one shots dealing with both canon characters and my OCs. Rated Teen for safety. I don't own dragon age of course. New story for chapter 7: Two souls that died before their time meet in this au of my au, set in Viscountess Amell universe
1. Long Live the Viscountess

**Grim Tales: Stories of Dragon Age**

**Long Live the Viscountess**

**9:27 Dragon Age**

Too late.

Two words that had defined the last leg of Solona Amell's long journey back to Kirkwall. Word had reached her as she had been finishing her studies in Val Chevin, an urgent message from her Mother, the Lady Revka. Words that had shook the young noble woman to her core.

_Dearest Solona,_

_Your Father is leaving us, please return home._

The words had cut the young noble woman like a sword; she knew exactly what she needed to do.

The girl had run seeking her valets, horses were to be prepared. She dismissed her servants and the royal tutor, her belongings could be sent for later. She intended to travel light. Speed was all that mattered now. She needed to get home.

_Even though she knew she was going to be too late._

She would not be there to see her Father go to the Maker's side. She would not be able to say goodbye.

Viscount Amell would be gone long before she could reach home.

The Viscount Amell, Lord Aristide Amell, who had seen Kirkwall through its darkest hour, and had ended the cruel Threnhold dynasty. Who had almost single handedly held the schemes and ambitions of a group of rogue Templars at bay.

He had been a lion among sheep, a colossus! Even the legendary Templar hero Meredith Stannard respected him.

He did not cow to the woman, or her ferocity.

He refused to be bullied or manipulated; he loved his home, and seized power because of it.

Viscount Amell had not waited for the Templars to decide if he was worthy of ruling the City of Chains. He had rallied the nobles around him and took the throne. Not even the newly minted Knight-Commander Meredith could stand in his way.

Aristide Amell had been strong, even when his eldest son had been taken to the gallows he had not faltered. He refused to be bullied into seclusion by the Templars. He lived his life, sending his Solona to study abroad so that she would not be harassed by the Templars, poked and prodded until she submitted to their foul tests. The birth of little Daylen had forever secured their line, even when his brother Damien had been executed and poor Fausten had died of the cholera.

No, Aristide Amell had been strong, but even he could not hold back the ravages of time.

He had married well, but late, Lady Revka was twenty years his junior, and she had blessed him with three children. Marius had been born first with Solona coming three years later, and Daylen five after that.

Marius developing magical talent had hurt Father's position, but he refused to be cowed by it, he continued to build alliances, when the nobles cut him off, he sought friends in the Dwarven Merchant's guild. He found new allies, and new investments to empower their family, and expand their wealth. Father had refused to let House Amell fall into obscurity, and in the end he had prevailed. All of Kirkwall now bowed to the Amell family.

A family that was about to lose its patriarch.

Solona prayed to the Maker to wait, to let her have time to see her father one last time, but she knew it would not happen.

She would be far too late.

IOI

Solona's ship arrived in the harbor on a sad rainy day. A full brigade of city guards had been sent to meet her and deliver her to the keep, after a message had arrived by carrier pigeon.

The guards stood at attention despite the driving rain.

She looked upon them in sadness, noticing the black armbands that they all wore, armbands marked with the crest of House Amell in regal purple.

Seeing those armbands made the seventeen year old feel like she had been punched in the stomach.

Father no, she thought, no…not my Father!

Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to allow them to fall, she held her head high, as a noble woman should, wiped at the offending tears and focused on her duty.

It was…what Father would have expected of her.

The young woman took a deep breath, and tried to settle her nerves, even though she knew the truth.

She had come home…too late.

IOI

The black banners flew throughout Hightown, marking the passing of Kirkwall's beloved ruler. Even House Dumar who had been rivals of House Amell for decades showed respect.

Solona pulled her cloak tighter around herself, her long blonde hair hidden under the dark fabric. It had been nearly ten years since she had last seen her home. Back when Perrin Threnhold had still ruled this city.

Solona had heard that the young tyrant had threatened her Father once, that she would have an accident before she ever had come of age.

Father responded by moving her away from Kirkwall, sending her to study abroad, even though she was only seven at the time. Father had no desire to see his second child lost as her brother Marius had been. He would see that she grew up happy and strong. Solona had hoped that her younger brother would join her in her exile, but the Threnhold line had collapsed before that had become necessary. Father had done what he could for her, and made sure she grew up safe from both the Threnholds and overly ambitious Templars…

…Far from the reach of tyrants.

When Father had become Viscount six years ago, Solona had hoped that she would finally be allowed to come home, but Father had forbid it.

Solona missed her parents, she missed little Daylen, she even missed her crass older brother Marius, who despite everything that had happened was doing quite well in the circle of magi.

She wondered if Marius would be in the keep, or would the Knight-Commander not allow him to attend, with Father gone…

No…she refused to think about that. She would be strong.

She hurried up the steps into the Viscount's Keep. She expected to be taken to the royal apartments, where she would be allowed to mourn with her family as was proper.

The guards did not take her there, they made straight for the throne room.

When the great doors opened, Solona stood in shock.

The royal court had been assembled, as well as every other noble in Kirkwall. Grand Cleric Elthina stood beside her Mother, both stood before the empty throne.

She found her eyes riveted to that throne, her Father's throne, the throne where he had ruled their home so well, a throne that he would never sit in again.

She barely held her tears in check, but managed to get control.

It was strange, he had been absent from her life, but she had never forgotten him, the Father who always wrote to her, and allowed her to explore the world beyond the borders of Kirkwall.

Mother looked haggard, her blond hair streaked with gray. She had clearly tried to be strong for the nobles, but was faltering.

Everyone knew that she had married Father for love, When Mother's family had collapsed, Aristide had taken her into their house, as a favor to Revka's father, an ally of House Amell.

The young girl had married him two years later.

Twelve year old Daylen slouched behind them, looking sullen.

Did he blame her for not being here? Did he think that she did not love Father as much as he?

She hoped not.

Marius stood with First Enchanter Orsino, the two could not be more different, Marius was broad shouldered; his dark hair and smoldering blue eyes promised vengeance on whoever insulted House Amell. He had been ten when she left, recently grafted into the circle as an apprentice.

He nodded respectfully to her now as she approached the throne.

Knight-Commander Meredith stood in the back with her Templars. The powerfully built leader of the orders gaze never left Solona, like a she wolf stalking her prey.

Solona ignored her; nothing would interfere with her comforting her family.

She embraced her mother, who held her tightly, their first embrace in ten years. For a moment Solona sobbed, but again held it in check.

There would be a time for tears later, in private.

"I'm sorry Mother," the girl whimpered, "I was too…"

Lady Revka put a hand to her daughter's lips.

"Hush child," the older woman said, "You are here now, that is what matters."

Something in her Mother's voice put the girl on edge.

What was going on? Why were all the nobles here?

Grand Cleric Elthina also embraced her. The Amells had always been devoted Andrastians, it was not surprising that she was here.

"Greeting My dear," Elthina said.

"Grand Cleric," Solona responded with a curtsey.

The old priest nodded, and turned to Solona's Mother.

"We are ready to begin."

Solona again felt nervousness run up her spine…

Begin what?

"Kneel daughter," Mother said.

Solona looked at her in surprise.

"Kneel, Mother?"

"Yes dear, kneel."

Solona parted her wet cloak, it was not an easy thing to kneel in her travel clothes, but far easier than if she had been wearing a full gown.

She did as she was ordered.

Mother smiled proudly down at her.

Daylen rolled his eyes, while Marius shot their younger brother a cold glare.

Solona still did not understand what was going on…why would they…?

OH MAKER!

The Grand Cleric stood before her, in her hands she held Father's black crown.

The circlet of power, the black crown of Kirkwall, the crown worn by the Viscount's of Kirkwall.

Solona feared that she was going to have a panic attack.

They…she…they could not honestly think!

Grand Cleric Elthina lowered the crown, placing it upon Solona's brow.

The grand Cleric stepped back.

"THE VISCOUNT IS DEAD!" she called out to the crowd.

The nobles watched with cold blank stares, one by one, they fell to one knee.

Even Knight-Commander Meredith kneeled, but she did not take her eyes off the young girl's back…

…The eyes of a predator stalking her prey.

Solona's blue eyes were wide with fear and disbelief, her Mother placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Arise, My Lady," Mother said warmly.

Solona stood; she was trying hard not to faint.

She turned to regard the nobles of Kirkwall. They refused to look upon her, diverting their gaze respectfully, only Meredith and Marius held her gaze.

She knew what Meredith thought, but Marius was a closed book to her.

Was he jealous?

Did…did he realize that she did not want this?!

_Oh Maker, not this, not me? _

This had to be some dream, some horrible nightmare!

Grand Cleric Elthina's voice rang out strong and clear through the throne room.

"LONG LIVE THE VISCOUNTESS!"

"LONG LIVE THE VISCOUNTESS!" the noble repeated.

"LONG LIVE THE VISCOUNTESS!" the guards repeated.

"_**LONG LIVE THE VISCOUNTESS!"**_

Four words that changed Solona Amell's life forever, and…

All of Thedas would change with it.

IOI

Later that night, Solona paced in the Viscount's apartment, her parent's apartment, she felt like a thief.

"You are Viscountess now," Mother had said, "These are your rooms. We always knew this day would come dearest."

The woman cried and embraced her daughter, the new ruler of Kirkwall.

"Your Father would be so proud of you my dear."

Solona had smiled weakly, trying to be brave, but now…in the dark with only her thoughts for company.

She was free to be herself.

She sank onto the bed.

Officially, she was now Viscountess, but would not assume the full duties until she turned eighteen next month, until then…Seneschal Bran would rule as lord protector. After that…

Solona suppressed a whimper.

She held up her hand before herself.

She wondered if Mother knew.

Father did, he had visited her when she had been staying in Rivain.

She had showed him.

Solona closed her eyes.

She whispered the words that she had learned from that apostate girl that Father had found.

Heat warmed her face.

Solona opened her eyes.

A ball of blue flame flickered in her hand.

Magic was meant to serve man, not rule over him, but she…she…

They expected her to rule Kirkwall!

How would she do it?

How would she hide this from the Templars?

She had no idea?

Solona closed her hand, the flame died.

Her vision doubled, tripled, wetness flowed down her cheeks.

Here…alone with the darkness and with the demons both real and metaphorically.

She was free to be herself.

She was free to cry.

It would be the first tears of her reign…

…but not the last.

**A/N: What did you think? AU I know, but Grim Tales will be a place for me to explore different characters both original and canon. Please review, do you want to hear more of Viscount Solona's story? I want to hear your thoughts gentle readers.**

**Thanks **

**DG**


	2. Long Live the Viscountess part 2

**Long Live the Viscountess Part 2**

The month that passed since Solona had returned to Kirkwall brought many changes.

The black banners came down, in their place were hung new ones, white ones, bearing the sign of both Kirkwall and House Amell in huge gold embroidery. Invitations were sent to the surrounding kingdoms, the public coronation of Viscountess Amell was set to begin.

The rulers of the various cities and nations were understandably curious about their newest peer. Aristide Amell, though open for trade, kept Kirkwall fairly isolated from its neighbors. The chance to build new alliances was too good to pass up for most of them.

So they would come. They would all gather, and see the girl who would lead Kirkwall into the future. They would evaluate if they had found a new friend or a new foe, and all would ask what was in it for them, how could they turn the girl's rise to their advantage?

IOI

Solona knew all this, she had been taught well by her tutor Brother Alec. Alec was from Tevinter originally, he had been hired by her father after her magic had first manifested itself. The old man was secretly a member of the independent mage's collective, and a skilled mage in his own right. Not that magic was his only talent however, he taught her philosophy, mathematics, and even herbalism.

_A young lady must have many skills if she is to rule well_, the old man had told her.

He was a harsh taskmaster, but Solona had come to respect him, and his daughter had been one of her best friends. It had been Livia who had taught her fire spells.

The girl had been so full of life, so ready to embrace the future; Solona had envied her a little.

Her death at the hands of a group of Templars eight months earlier had hit Solona very hard. She feared for Alec, as he dropped into a deep depression. She had feared that she would lose him as well, but with time, she had brought him back. He had come to see Solona as his surrogate daughter, and she needed to be taught, lest her magic consume her.

He had given her Father his word that that would not happen.

Many an hour they had worked together, Solona training at his feet. He said she had great potential; magic flowed through her veins thicker than blood. He taught her the spells she would need to hide her gifts from the Templars, but also taught her combat and healing magic as well. She had not wanted to learn combat magic at first, but he refused to listen, she needed to be trained to survive, should the Templars discover her.

He would not lose her like he had lost his Livia.

Solona had spent so many hours learning to summon various magical effects. Alec expected nothing short of perfection from her; he often would frown and stamp his staff when she did not succeed to his satisfaction.

_A Viscount's daughter must do better._

She trained and trained. She wielded vast power he told her, but…she wielded it like a club, bludgeoning like some maddened ogre.

Alec intended to teach her subtlety. Any battle mage could freeze a water trough; he wanted Solona to turn the very rain to snow with a single spell.

Her eyes had widened at his words.

"Am…am I truly so powerful master?"

"You are powerful my dear," he said nodding, "You are smart and talented, very good at the spells you have already mastered…"

She smiled.

His frown caused it to leave her face.

"But…" he said.

She felt her heart fall.

"But?" she repeated.

"You could be magnificent," He said crossing his arms, "You have the potential to be more powerful than the Archon himself. You will likely dwarf my powers when you reach your true potential. If you listen to me, trust me completely. I will show you a world that you never dreamed possible, power beyond your most dizzy of daydreams."

Her brow furrowed. She thought of Marius, and she thought of the look of pleasure on Meredith Stannard's face as she and her lieutenants dragged him away.

She believed that she had had House Amell that day, but she had not counted on Father's strength. Meredith would have happily turned over the Viscount's seat to one her toadies. Father had always said that Marlowe Dumar would have likely become Viscount if he had not pushed with their allies.

Dumar would have sat on the throne, but it is Meredith who would have ruled.

Aristide Amell would not allow that, he would not hand Kirkwall to the woman who had dragged his first born out of their home like a common criminal.

Fear filled Solona's heart, if…if Meredith knew what she was…it…it would destroy House Amell.

She had to hide it, to push the power away.

She turned to Alec.

"I don't want that power," she whispered, "I never wanted it."

He gave her an understanding look.

"That my dear child," he said with a sad smile, "Is…why it is best that it is yours."

"I don't understand."

"With time and experience, you will," he promised.

IOI

The day of her coronation arrived.

Solona stood in the Viscount's quarters, her quarters. Mother and Daylen were with her. Brother Alec stood in the corner, his gray eyes evaluating her.

As always…she found herself wanting.

_A Viscount's daughter must do better._

She stared into the mirror.

The dour robes of state covered her, a fine long gray gown, a polished leather corset, long gloves came up to her elbows, and the seal of Kirkwall rested over her breast. The long cloak she wore adorned with the sigil of House Amell. Her white-blonde hair washed and styled woven into a tight bun, not a single strand out of place, the black crown graced her brow. Her cheeks rouged her lips and eyes painted.

She…she did not look like herself, not at all.

"Who are you?" she whispered to her reflection, the strange young woman who she did not know.

Daylen burst into a fit of laughter.

"You look like a doll in the marketplace," he jeered, "The children are going to love you."

She gave him her best big sister glare.

"Careful Daylen," she warned, "Insulting the Viscountess could get you arrested."

The boy gave her a saucy grin.

She smirked, part of her imagined freezing his feet in place, or perhaps setting his trousers on fire. It would be a petty revenge…but…

"Are you ready?" her mother asked.

Solona gave her a weak smile.

"How is my hair?" she quipped.

"Hurricane proof," Daylen mocked.

"Hush you," Solona growled.

Alec cleared his throat loudly.

Solona snapped to attention, as she did during their training sessions.

"It is time to go Your Excellency," the sage said quietly, "It is time to greet your subjects."

She swallowed hard, her hands felt like ice, her heart raced.

She turned to follow Alec.

"Wait."

Mother's voice stopped her in her tracks.

She turned.

The older woman clipped something to front of her cloak. She looked down at the head of a roaring lion stylized in silver with sapphire eyes.

Her Father had worn it at political functions. It had been what led to his nickname the Lion of Kirkwall.

She brushed it with her fingers, a small smile on her face.

She embraced her Mother one final time.

The woman smiled with tears in her eyes.

"Be strong my little Lioness," she purred.

Solona nodded.

She turned and walked out into the hall, Alec falling in step beside her.

It was time.

All of Kirkwall awaited her.

IOI

They went down to the royal stables, a chariot sat in wait, two powerful black stallions stood still and waiting, they had been so well trained that they would follow the parade route without any other driver.

The young noble stood staring at the gold and vehicle.

The gates creaked open, letting in the sunlight. The roar of Kirkwall filled Solona's ears.

Oh Maker!

Panic and stage fright robbed Solona of her courage. Her hands felt like they were on fire.

Wait…

They were!

Blue flames licked at her gloves. She held up her hands in horror.

"Master Alec," she whimpered.

He blocked the view of outside.

"Calm down child," he hissed.

"I…I can't…"

He grasped her shoulders, pinning her with his cold gray eyes.

"Apprentice," he hissed.

The tone brought her back under control, so many times she had heard it, it forced her to center herself.

It forced her back in control.

"Yes Master," she said flatly.

The magical storm within her calmed.

The flames vanished.

Alec sighed with relief.

"Listen to me," he said coldly, "You have nothing to fear. I have trained you for this, and beyond that, the strength to rule…it is in your blood. You are the lion's daughter. Make his strength your own."

Solona took a deep breath; her hand brushed the lion clasp on her cloak.

_Father…watch over me._

When she opened her eyes, she was herself again.

She stepped into the chariot.

"Are you well?" he asked.

She nodded.

_Terrified, but well._

He nodded, pleased with the image before him.

"Head high," he advised her, "Let them see their Viscountess, the perfect vision of power and grace. This is your city, never forget that."

"My city," she repeated.

The horses moved forward, she grasped the sides with a death grip.

She closed her eyes as she was pulled into the sun.

The song of coronation rang through the streets. Crowds cheered or jeered as she passed by. White and pink rose pedals fell upon her like snow.

Slowly she opened her eyes, accepting the sun's light, embracing the sun, on the day of her own rise.

Lady Solona Amell, the Viscountess Amell that was who she was now.

The flowers rained down around her, pink and white stuck to her robes.

She caught one, regarding the delicate petal in her hand.

A sad smile came to her face.

This was not what she expected of her birthday, to be placed in a gilded cage.

_**No,**__ she could not think that!_

_Head high, let them see __**their **__Viscountess._

She was their Viscountess.

She ruled here.

She regarded the guards that kept the crowd back. The people looked at her as they might a prize mare. She wondered how many actually thought her worthy of her Father's throne.

She would have to show them that she was…

…The daughter of the lion indeed.

IOI

The parade took her through Hightown, past the merchant quarter, and little Orzammar. Finally it ended at the Chantry.

At the steps stood the members of the royal court, along with visiting royalty and their families.

The chariot stopped before them.

She stepped out, praying that she not trip on her long flowing cloak.

Three children came forward presenting her with flowers. She smiled as they curtseyed and backed away.

The nobles whispered as she approached.

She cast a small spell that Alec had taught her, it sharpened her hearing.

She heard her fellow rulers speak plainly.

'She returns home with great fanfare," Empress Celene of Orlais remarked, "What has she done to deserve it?"

"She is still young Your Grace," King Cailan of Ferelden responded, "Give her time."

"The Father was trouble," Prince Vael of Starkhaven said, "Can we expect more or less from the daughter?"

"We should speak with the royal advisors," Queen Anora of Ferelden said, "Convince them to guide her where she needs to be."

"I'm not so sure that will be necessary," Cailan said with a boyish grin, his eyes wandered over her form, "I think she could do very well."

Both the Orlesian Empress and his wife glared at him.

Solona suppressed the desire to roll her eyes.

Mother had warned her about Cailan of Ferelden. King Maric had been more controlled, but the son was bit of a womanizer.

That was probably why Ferelden did not yet have an heir, mother had suggested.

Solona did not give into gossip, but at the same time, she would guard herself carefully around Cailan.

She greeted all of the nobles in turn, moving a little quickly passed the Ferelden delegation, and being coldly respectful to Celene.

It was then that she turned to the representatives from Starkhaven.

The Prince and his eldest greeted her with respectful hugs, but…that is not what caught her eye.

It was the young man behind them.

He was dressed in chantry robes, a brother she supposed, but why was he not with the Grand Cleric? He was broad shouldered with short brown hair; his face marked him clearly as a Vael.

He looked up at her.

She felt a…spark pass between them.

The young man blinked.

_Had…had he felt it to?_

The nobles ushered her forward, the Grand Cleric awaited…the official ceremony of coronation, declaring her both a woman, and the ruler of Kirkwall. The thought of handsome young brother faded.

She nearly collided with Knight-Commander Meredith!

The armored woman glared at the smaller Viscountess.

Solona offered her hand in greeting.

The Knight Commander took it and kissed her royal ring as was proper.

"Long live the Viscountess," the Templar woman said with barely hidden venom.

Solona was terrified, but she pushed it back, turning it into righteous anger.

The two women faced each other, Solona and Meredith. The Viscountess and the chantry's attack dog.

_The Lioness and the Jackal_

"May the Maker watch over you knight-Commander." Solona said curtly.

"And over you," the Templar replied.

Solona slipped past her.

"I shall be watching as well your Excellency,' Meredith said with cruel smirk. "I shall be watching…very, very closely."

Solona did not respond to the threat.

She made her way through the chantry, up to where the Grand Cleric stood.

She was not ready, but she had no choice.

The throne was her birthright, what her Father had left her, the duty to defend and protect their home, and she would do it.

Her blood demanded.

Destiny demanded.

She was the lion's daughter.

It would be done.

**The End, For now.**

**A new story will be coming next week. If anyone liked this intro to Viscountess Amell, please let me know and I will do more with her in the future.**

**DG**


	3. Flemeth's Son: A Tale of Loss

**A/N: A new story for Grim Tales, if you liked the Viscountess story, it is being continued in** _**Viscountess Amell**_. _This story deals with an OC I created for my first DA story Chant of Darkness. Without further ado, here is __**Flemeth's Son.**_

**Flemeth's Son: A Tale of Loss**

**Blood.**

Osen Elderson could taste it, between his teeth under his fingernails. Blood rich in Lyrium, blood spilled from his Mother's murderers.

_Templar blood._

Osen's home had become a battleground. The Templars had come to capture a young apostate, a fourteen year old boy living with the village healer, her adopted son.

Him.

She had told him to run, to hide in the woods and wait for her to return, she had thought she would reason with the Templars.

Tara Elderson, the village healer, she had never harmed anyone, her potions and poultices had healed the sick and weary for years. She had loved all, she had taught her son to do so as well, but something was always amiss. The animals in the wood feared him. The Dalish elves that moved through these woods went out of their way to avoid him.

He had never known why…until tonight.

And Mama…his beloved Mother, she had been wrong.

Templars could not be reasoned with, not over something like this.

Not over him.

IOI

The Templars had dragged her from their home. He had been in hiding watching from what he thought was a safe distance.

He had heard the knight-lieutenants angry rant.

"Where is the apostate?"

He is not an apostate. He is my son," his Mama had cried.

"He will be confined, he is dangerous."

He is good; he knows healing spells that is it."

"The demons will not care. They will feast on his soul."

"They will not," Mother had whimpered, "They fear him."

"What was that?"

Tara Elderson fell silent.

The Knight-Lieutenant struck her.

She fell sobbing to the ground.

"Where is the apostate?!"

"I don't know!"

The Templar had drawn his sword.

"Last chance woman." He growled.

The woman sobbed, praying to Andraste for deliverance.

One of the knights kicked her again and again.

Osen felt fury. He wanted to jump down there, let the bastards have him, if that is what it took.

He would go to their bloody circle!

**They just had to stop hurting her!**

IOI

"I fear she might be possessed Lieutenant," one of the Templars said, "A thrall of the apostate."

"It is possible," the man replied, "We must do what we can to save her soul."

Tara Elderson said nothing, she felt this as right. It was a good sacrifice.

She had come to love Osen; she had loved him since the day his birth mother had brought him to her.

She still feared the woman, but it wasn't fear that motivated her.

Osen, her little bird, her baby Wren, she loved him.

Andraste had died to preserve what she believed in.

Tara Elderson believed in her son.

Osen would survive.

He would make his mark on the world.

"Ready the pyre," the knight-lieutenant shouted.

Tara lowered her head.

The Maker's will be done.

IOI

He ran.

He had to reach her, he had to surrender himself.

They had to let her go! They had to!

Fire blazed bright!

It illuminated the Eldersons' small hut.

His Mother wailed, lashed to the stake.

The Templars stood back, watching as she burned. The Lieutenant said a prayer over the woman they had consigned to the flames.

Osen looked on in horror.

All his life his Mother had spoken of the good of the Chantry. The peace and forgiveness offered by the followers of Andraste.

In this moment…Osen knew those words to be a lie!

He knew what it was to feel rage!

_He knew what it was to __**hate!**_

They would pay!

"Apostate," he heard one of the Templar's shout they ran towards him.

He growled low…a feral sound in the back of his throat.

He felt something snap.

He began to change.

It wasn't the demons, oh no, the demons of the fade avoided him. This…this was something different.

"Surrender mage!" another shouted, "You shall be…ANDRASTE'S BLOOD!"

"ABOMINATION!" the knight-lieutenant shouted.

No…he…he wasn't an abomination.

He…he was something else…

…Something worse.

"Kill it," the lieutenant shouted, "FOR ANDRASTE! KILL THE BEAST!"

Osen breathed fire; it consumed the fool as he leapt onto another.

He tore the man's armor with his claws.

Osen Elderson had become a young drake, a male dragon….

And he hungered for vengeance!

IOI

The change ended when the screaming finally stopped.

The drake vanished, and in its place lay a sobbing young boy.

Osen…he…he had never hurt anything or anyone before this. It…it felt like it had happened in a dream to someone else, the taste of the blood in his mouth, the slick feeling on his hands.

_It…it was terrifying._

Osen found himself lying in a pool of Templar blood, gasping and crying. Mother was gone, the flames having consumed her. The Templars who had burned her were also dead, ripped to pieces by him…the drake…by…whatever it was that he had become.

"What am I," he whispered.

He rose from the blood, he shrieked to the sky, demanding that the Maker reveal what he desired!

"_**WHAT IN ANDRASTE'S NAME AM I?"**_

"You are my son."

The statement was spoken in low tones, but radiated with dark power.

Osen spun.

An old woman stood before him, she was dressed in a strange suit of armor, it appeared ancient, but at the same time ageless. Her face was marked with age, her hair white, but her amber colored eyes sparkled with life, and vast cruelty. Her white hair was pulled up into long braids giving her the appearance of having horns.

She smiled wickedly down upon the beaten boy.

"Hello my little Osen," she smirked, "Tis been a long, long time."

He gasped…him…he could feel the magic boiling in her, it…it felt dark…malevolent, but at the same time…familiar.

It…it felt like… his own magic?

No! It…it was not possible!

"Who…who are you?" he whimpered.

The woman cackled.

"Names are pretty but useless things dear boy," she replied, "I have had soooo many. The Dalish folk call me the woman of many years. In Highever I'm called Conobar's Bane. Your sister calls me an old hag who talks too much."

The woman cackled again.

"Though if I had to choose," she said tapping her chin lightly, "I think I prefer to be called Flemeth that will do."

Osen's eyes widened.

The witch of the wilds!

"You dear heart," Flemeth purred menacingly, "May call me Mother."

Osen felt like had been punched in the stomach.

Flemeth the witch of the wilds, the monster of myth, was here and…and she was claiming him as her son!

No! There was no such thing! He wasn't…he could not be!

Flemeth sneered at him.

"If you are done sniveling in the dirt dear boy, tis time that I revealed what I expect of you, as my son."

"YOU ARE NOT MY MOTHER!" He rose with an angry snarl.

She grinned at his show of temper.

"MY MOTHER ID DEAD!" he said pointing at the pyre burning before them.

She looked blandly at the burning corpse, her head tilted slightly.

"A useful pawn," she shrugged, "She kept you safe enough while I tended to raising your sister. Tis a shame that you were not born a girl; I could have used another daughter."

She smiled conspiratorially at him.

"My lovely Morrigan is too rebellious for her own good, and dear Yavana is too caught up in her work to be of much use. You little Osen, you will serve me well."

The boy was shocked, on the verge of tears.

"I'm not your son," he murmured, "I can't be a witch."

Flemeth laughed at that.

"Tis true, male witches are rare, but not totally unknown. I have produced male children before, but they have typically been devoid of magic. You…dear boy are an oddity," her expression turned thoughtful.

"When I seduced your father years ago, I never expected to produce a male witch. Poor witless Andreas, he thought he would find power outside of Tevinter, what he found…was me."

Osen looked shocked, he…he had no memory of his father.

"My father…he…he is in Tevinter?" Osen asked.

Flemeth smirked.

"So you believe me now?"

"No."

"Not that it matters much," Flemeth shrugged, "Andreas has returned to his house, back to his seat as Magister. He knows nothing of you, and would likely not care, even if he did."

Osen glared at her, he did not know what to believe, but this…this woman claiming to be Flemeth…she knew things he desired.

He would know them, and figure out himself later if she was lying.

"I sent your mother spells from time to time," she informed him, "Things that you would find useful in your service to me."

"I'm not your slave!"

"You are unique," she said, "None of my children before you have had the ability to become dragons, not when so young anyway. You…were name for a man I…knew…long ago; you honor him with your uniqueness."

He did not know how to respond to that, she looked at him like he was some kind of tool.

"You are a commodity," she said pacing before him, "You serve a purpose, when that purpose is exhausted you will be discarded that is simply the way it will be."

"**I'm my own person!"**

"We shall see." she smirked, "Serve me well, and you will be rewarded, powers that you have never dreamed of."

"I don't want your powers!" he said hotly.

She slapped him, hard across the face, sending him sprawling. The metal gauntlet she wore broke his nose.

He looked up at her, snarling in defiance!

He began to change.

Flemeth sneered.

"That trick won't work on me dear boy," she said, "I'm a much bigger dragon than you."

The words shook him back to his senses. He reverted to human form.

In that one moment, he realized that it was true.

His…his whole life had been a lie.

Mother had been a slave of this creature.

No matter how much she had claimed to love him, she was simply a pawn in Flemeth's games.

She had been frightened of what Flemeth would do to her if she did not care for him.

There had been no love there.

Tara Elderson had lied to him his entire life.

He had been a fool.

IOI

Flemeth smirked at him.

"You are starting to see the truth," she said, "Good."

Tears ran down his face, but not of pain, it was simple disbelief.

"You…you are telling me that I'm a witch?"

"Yes."

"That…that I'm a thing," he continued, "Something that Fereldan Mother's scared their children with stories of at night?"

"Quite true," the witch replied.

"You say I'm a monster?"

"You're my son," Flemeth shrugged, "Tis the same thing."

IOI

Osen did the only thing he could think of, the thing he should have done from the very beginning, when his mother, his real mother had told him to go and hide.

He ran.

Flemeth did not pursue.

"There is nowhere to run Osen," she shouted after him, "You will serve my will no matter where you flee. You cannot escape. You are **mine!"**

He did not respond. He did not want to do anything right now but run…run from Flemeth, run from the Templars, run from the lie that had been his life.

He simply had to run.

IOI

He ran all night, only collapsing as the sun first began to rise over the Brecilian Forest. Mother had always warned him not to go so deep into this place, but now he knew the truth.

The spirits, the werewolves, and other monsters that lived here would not harm him.

They were afraid of him, or at least what he was.

They would not harm a witch of the wilds.

He lay panting, exhausted and in pain.

He could not return home, the Templars would find him if he did, not that he had anything left in the village to return to.

Osen's eyes blazed with hatred. Tara Elderson had lived only to help people, and the villagers had betrayed her, over him.

One day…they would regret that!

For now…he had nothing, he had fledgling magics, and no mother to advise him.

He could go back he supposed beg Flemeth's forgiveness.

No, he would not do that.

He would find his own way.

He would be free.

He rose, searching for food and water would come first, and then he would find his way in this world.

He would leave his past here; leave it to burn away with his mother.

He would need many things, but first thing was first, after food and water.

He would need a new name.

Flemeth had named him for someone she had known…he would cast that away. He wanted nothing the harpy had to offer him.

Plus, the Templars knew that Osen Elderson was an apostate, he needed a new name if he was to survive their wrath.

He thought back to what Flemeth had said.

Andreas, his father's name was Andreas.

That would do for now.

Andreas nodded, pleased with the sound of it. Perhaps he would seek his father out in Tevinter, claim his Magister birthright, but it wasn't enough.

The chantry's lapdogs had murdered his mother. He wanted them to suffer, not just the Templars but the chantry itself.

He wanted to see every chantry in Thedas consumed in flames.

Let them burn as his mother had burned.

Andreas smiled.

He wanted to seize the Divine by the throat; she would die knowing that her precious church was in flames because her zealots had murdered an innocent healer.

He wanted her to die with Tara Elderson's name on her lips. He wanted her to know that she had died at the hands of her son, her little bird.

Her little Wren.

Wren?

Andreas' smile widened, he liked the sound of it.

It would honor his mother's memory, but at the same time he would claim it as his own.

It would be a name whispered in the darkest corridors of the chantry.

The shadow of their doom, the great avenger, he would bring death to the liars that Andraste had put on her throne.

It might take decades, but that did not matter.

_He would be avenged._

All of Thedas would know his name, he was Andreas Wren, and he **was** the Son of Flemeth.

If he had to be a monster, so be it.

Andreas Wren fled into the wilderness.

A monster…he **would **be.

**A/N: Wren's tale continues in my story Chant of Darkness, it takes place post DA 2 if anyone is curious. **


	4. A Man of Peace

**A/N: This version of Cousland is the same Aedan Cousland that is now appearing in my Viscountess Amell story. The next two chapters will be one-shots featuring him, first with Duncan and the next one with Leliana and Morrigan. Hope you enjoy this introduction to this version of the Hero Ferelden.**

**Enjoy gentle readers.**

**DG**

**A Man of Peace**

_Darling, go with Duncan._

_NO! MOTHER YOU CAN'T DO THIS!_

_My place is at your father's side, in this world and in the next._

"_I'm so sorry… my… love._

_We had a good life; it is up to our children now._

_NO! WE CAN FIGHT! I'LL FIND ANOTHER WAY!_

_They have broken through. My lord, we must go!_

_I WON'T LEAVE THEM!_

_GO PUP! GO NOW!_

_Good bye my darling boy._

_NOOOOO!_

IOI

Aedan Cousland slouched near Duncan's small campfire, his face and hands still stained with the blood of Howe's men, his dark eyes empty and full of hate, but it had not always been so.

Aedan was a powerfully built young man of nineteen, with long brown hair and compassionate eyes, the youngest Cousland might have had the physical look of a warrior, but he had never felt the desires of one. Many a noble had thought him overly righteous at best, self-righteous at worst. They did not understand him, not with his quoting of the chant and his warm and gentle demeanor. Aedan was a self-proclaimed pacifist; he saw the concept of war as being against the commandments of the Maker. He was trained for war, but had no desire to ever fight in one.

_It was the duty of every righteous man in Thedas to fill his heart with the Maker's love._

Aedan shook his head, he…he had been so naïve.

What good was love in a world where innocents could be destroyed with a simple cowardly act of betrayal?

No…love had failed him. Aedan no longer desired it…

All that mattered to the young noble now…was hate. It was something he could grasp, something he could hold onto.

It…it was all he had left.

Most of it directed at the dark skinned man who was gathering firewood nearby. Duncan had saved his life some would say. He had led the youngest Cousland out of their family home as the treacherous Arl Howe burned it out from under them, but the rescue had not been the Maker's charity, oh no.

Duncan had needed another warden to throw at the Darkspawn. He had lost Ser Gilmore to Howe…so he had taken Aedan instead.

The noble snorted like an angry stallion.

_**I don't want this! **__I __**never **__wanted this! All I ever wanted was to serve the Maker, and to honor our prophet._

_Not that that had saved those he loved…no it had not saved anyone._

The young noble felt angry and betrayed. He no longer felt the righteousness of the Maker, or any desire to serve him.

He hated the Maker now. How could the Maker just sit back and let every last person that Aedan loved be slaughtered? Did their innocence matter? Did it mean anything?

Aedan was starting to think the Maker had given him his answer, a home destroyed, filled with the corpses of his loved ones.

The young noble touched the side of his head, the burn there still hurt; a chunk of burning timber had struck him in the head. Duncan had given him some salve to help with the burns, but Aedan chose to suffer in silence.

_He did not want or need the Warden Commander's charity._

_**He did not need it.**_

IOI

Once he had felt that charity was the lifeblood of the world, the Maker seeking to forgive his wayward children through the kindness of others, the sacrifice freely given for those less fortunate.

That had been Aedan's view since he had been about eight years old. It was the first time he had heard his calling, he remembered sitting in the chapel of Highever Castle and listening to Mother Mallol talking about the wonders of the Maker's world, and the promise of a better one…one made possible by the truly righteous.

Aedan had been moved to tears, he…he had heard the chant of light before, but never before had it made so much sense. Never before had it touched his heart so.

After that, he spent the first day of every week in the chantry tending to the needs of the sisters. As a man he could never serve as a woman could, but that did not mean that he could not feel the Maker's love. Fergus had teased him about it, but Aedan did not care.

All that mattered now was his duty to Maker, he was a Cousland yes, but he…like everyone…was a child of the Maker first.

Aedan intended to prove himself to be the best of men. He wanted to be a true servant of the Maker and his bride Andraste.

Father was pleased with his devotion…at first. As Aedan grew into manhood, Bryce Cousland had expected his youngest son to begin preparing for his future. Aedan had continued his marshal training, but his heart still belonged to the Maker. He fought in tourneys only to please his family; the victories he won were simply another part of his duty as a Cousland. He would have been much happier reading in the chantry, helping categorizing holy relics.

The youngest Cousland enjoyed reading, and silent contemplation.

When Fergus had married Oriana and she had blessed him with a son, Aedan felt relief for the first time in his life.

No longer was he the heir to the throne of Highever. Orin would take it when Fergus went to the Maker's side. Aedan was now free to pursue his faith as he saw fit. He informed Mother Mallol of his desire to take the vows of a full brother, to enter the chantry and serve the rest of his life there.

Still Bryce Cousland resisted, he still did not want to accept his son's choice. Aedan was a skilled warrior and a handsome young man; at least, that is how others described him. Bryce felt that Aedan shoot not jump so quickly into the Maker's arms. That he should explore the world a little before retreating to life of religious contemplation.

Father had wanted him to explore all options before he gave himself to the chantry.

He had even tried to set Aedan up with Solona, the newly crowned Viscountess of Kirkwall. The two had visited there last summer. They had spoken cordially, but Aedan felt no attraction for the pretty Viscountess. He saw that she worried about her place in history, that she would never live up to her great Father's memory.

Aedan had advised her to have faith in the Maker, and trust him to guide her steps.

The Viscountess had not been impressed. He got the feeling that she was relieved to have him gone from her court. Father had not been happy with Aedan that day. He felt that his son was denying himself something that could have been very …special.

Aedan did not see it that way.

Bryce had thought to expose his son to a life that had not interested him. The youngest Cousland did not seek out the company of women and had no interest in siring any heirs.

_What did mortal love matter when the Maker's love was everywhere?_

The Couslands returned from Kirkwall with nothing gained. Bryce went back to ruling their family's Teynir, and Aedan returned to the chantry.

Things might have gone on like that had it not been for the rising of the Blight in the South.

It might have gone on like that had King Cailan had not summoned Bryce Cousland and his men to Ostagar.

It might have gone on that way if not for the actions of Rendon Howe.

IOI

Aedan shivered, but he was not cold, he felt hungry, but did not desire food.

He looked back into the night; the glow of Highever could still be seen, even at this distance.

Aedan suppressed a sob.

_It was gone; it was all just…gone._

Mother, Father, Oriana, Oren, Nan, and even old Aldous, all had been put to the sword because of Arl Howe's blind ambition.

Aedan growled low in the back of his throat. The sound even concerned his warhound Havard. The large Mabari licked his master's hand.

Aedan automatically stroked the dog's head, but felt no comfort from the act.

The young nobleman looked down at the Cousland sword; it was still stained with the blood of Howe's men.

Aedan sneered down at it, once upon a time he would have felt ill at the sight of so much blood, and been heartsick at the deaths he had caused.

He…he had never killed anyone before tonight, and now…now he wished that Rendon Howe was standing before him. Aedan did not want the bastard to die quick. He…he would have prolonged it, for days if he could…

…and even that would not be enough, it would not bring his family back.

Aedan touched his face, his cheeks and eyes were dry, he did not even have enough emotion left to feel sorrow, to cry for those he had lost.

Now…now he felt nothing, he felt numb.

It was a blissful release.

_**Is this what you wanted! To watch me fall into darkness! Does that please you Maker?! Does that please your beloved bride?!**_

Why had this happened to him? Had he not been loyal enough? Was the Maker punishing him for his pride?

All he had ever wanted was to serve…and now…how had the Maker rewarded his faith…

Betrayal.

He had betrayed one who only ever praised him name.

It was by far a greater betrayal than Howe had perpetrated.

Aedan would never forget, and he would never…ever forgive.

The Maker, the faith that he had nurtured so long was dead, as dead as his family and loved ones.

Aedan stared into the fire with a sense of cold fury.

He wished he were dead, but before he went…he would push Rendon Howe through first.

Then, if he died, it would not matter, Aedan would accept his end, and he would go to the Maker's side…

…go and spit in his betrayer's face.

It was the least he could do.

IOI

Duncan added the wood to the fire, his newest recruit did not even flinch, just sat there idling stroking his warhound's head.

Duncan shook his head, the boy…he reminded him a little too much of Genevieve the woman who had recruited him into the order so many years ago.

The warden commander shivered, considering how Genevieve died, that was not a compliment.

"You should try to get some rest my lord," he advised, "We have a hard days ride tomorrow."

Aedan glared at the warden.

"I'm not tired," he hissed.

"Never the less, you should try to get some rest," Duncan repeated, "We will not be able to stop tomorrow; we must push on towards Ostagar."

"Yes, I almost forgot," Aedan said snidely, "We are fighting to save all the poor innocents from the darkspawn."

Duncan's eyes narrowed.

"Yes we are," he replied.

The noble smirked.

"My family would have agreed with that goal, they will reward us both handsomely when we return. Oh wait… they can't, they are all dead!"

Aedan's eyes blazed with fury.

"Where were there defenders Duncan?" he asked, "Were they any less than anyone else? My family ruled Highever for generations; they were good and decent people. Where were their saviors?"

Duncan gave him a tired sigh.

"Innocents die in war Aedan," he reminded his recruit, "The King will see that How is punished, but that is not your concern now, nor is the Maker. You are going to be a Grey Warden; your only concern should be helping us end this Blight."

Aedan laughed fatalistically.

"And let's say that we do end the Blight," he spat, "Will that return Highever to me, will it breathe life back into my parents? Tell me Duncan, what is left in this world that is worth saving? A world of murders and betrayers, I say let them rot."

Duncan rose to his feet, his own temper flaring, but he did not shout nor strike the angry young man.

Though part of him greatly desired to strike the arrogant little pup.

Did he think that he was the only one who had ever lost a loved one? Did he not realize the violence in the world around him, even without a blight going on?

Duncan did not believe he did. He had lived a sheltered life in his castle. Now…now he had been dragged out into the world and forced to take a long hard look at it,

It was clear that young Cousland did not like what he saw.

Well, that was just too bad, Duncan had conscripted him, Aedan Cousland would either serve or he would die.

He no longer had any time for self-doubt or despair.

He would serve, that was all that mattered.

All that would ever matter.

IOI

Aedan nearly backed up a step, even though Duncan had said nothing, he could almost feel the rage blazing out from Duncan.

Perhaps…perhaps he had pushed the old man too far?

"I will tell you this once young Cousland," he growled, "You have been luckier than most. You lived a life of happiness and security, but that security was too easily shattered. Now you are alone, or at least you think that you are."

"I am alone," Aedan spat.

"No," Duncan replied, "You will never be alone again; the Grey wardens are your family now, your brothers and sisters. You can choose to ignore that, but it does not change anything. You are one of us now."

"You gave me no choice."

Would you choose death then?"

"Perhaps it would be better."

Duncan was on him before he could say another word, the warden had him pinned, one of his daggers at Aedan's throat.

The young noble's warhound growled.

His master stopped him with a raised hand.

"No Havard," Aedan ordered, "You stay right there."

The dog whimpered, but obeyed.

Aedan glared at Duncan.

The old man did not take his eyes off him.

"Go ahead," Aedan growled, "Do it! You will be doing the darkspawn a favor."

Duncan seemed to consider it.

"You are of no value to anyone dead, boy," he said.

Aedan almost laughed at that.

He was no good to anyone anymore. He was a failure, a pathetic fool who had failed everyone he had ever loved, including himself.

Duncan's blade cut into his neck bringing a trickle of blood. Aedan closed his eyes, waiting for the warden commander to finish it.

Part of him longed for it, begged for it.

Mother, Father, here I come.

Duncan breathed out a tired sigh.

The blade left Aedan's neck.

"Wardens are needed at Ostagar," he said, "You will go there, even if I have to tie you up and carry you there. If you long for death, the darkspawn will grant your wish, but I will not dishonor your father's memory. I promised him you would survive until we reached Ostagar. I…I hold true to that promise."

At the mention of his father, some of the hate faded from Aedan's face.

_You are a Cousland, and we always do our duty Pup._

Aedan could almost see Bryce Cousland standing before him, his eyes dark with shame and disappointment.

_We do our duty, always! _

Aedan sat up, rubbing at his neck. He glared silently at Duncan, but acknowledged his point.

"I…I will try to rest," he said sullenly, "I will fight your war Duncan, but do not expect me to like it."

The admission pleased the old man.

"As you wish milord," he said, "But you do not have to like it, you do not even have to like me. I simply ask that you do your duty, as a man of honor should."

Aedan almost chuckled.

A man of honor, he had never considered himself such. He would have preferred to have been called a man of peace.

Peace that he had lost, and would never know again.

He snapped his fingers. Havard came to his side. Aedan shot one final look over his shoulder.

"As you say," he said in a low angry voice, "Commander."

IOI

Duncan nodded, pleased that he had managed to reach the boy, if only part way.

"Sleep well Milord," he said, "I shall take the watch."

Aedan nodded and made for his bedroll.

"One last thing Duncan," he said.

"Yes?"

The young noble, the former noble, gave him a sad cold look.

"Don't call me that," he murmured, "I'm not a lord anymore, I'm not anything."

Duncan crossed his arms.

The boy had much to learn, but perhaps there was still hope.

At least…he hoped there was.

"We shall see," Duncan replied.

Aedan lay down, closing his eyes, trying to will away the nightmares he knew were coming.

He did not want to see them, but knew his family waited for him in the fade.

They waited…waited to remind him of his failure.

Aedan sighed.

"Good night Duncan."

"Good night," Duncan replied, he said one more word, but Aedan had only partially heard it, a word that would define him for the rest of his days.

That word was so simple it was terrifying, far more than faith of betrayal.

"Brother."

Aedan shivered.

A brother?

That was one thing he had failed miserably at before.

He hoped that he was strong enough not to fail again…

But he doubted it…

He doubted it very much.


	5. My Night and Day

**A/N: Another Aedan story from **_**Viscountess Amell,**_** this one deals with the two wonderful women in his life. He referred to Morrigan and Leliana as the night and day of his world; this is the story of his first time with them. Enjoy.**

**My Night and Day**

_Part one: Night_

Aedan Cousland cursed, he wrapped his cloak tighter around himself, they were still two days from Orzammar and had to stop for the night, the road had become too slick to push on.

Provided that they all not freeze before the night was out, that would be nice.

He glanced over his companions, what a motley crew they were, Alistair the fool, Leliana, far too righteous for her own good, Zev the lecher, Wynne another pious old fool, but a necessary one, Sten…who Aedan did respect enough to say nothing around, and Shale, a snarky golem who Aedan was really starting to regret bringing along in the first place. Morrigan was…

Well…

Morrigan was Morrigan.

Aedan sighed.

These people, his companions, they were far from the stuff of legends, and these were all that stood between Ferelden and total extinction at the hands of the Darkspawn and their dark master. What he wouldn't give for one of those old heroes right now let him take up the banner of leading this circus.

The warden's mouth turned into a grim line.

Not those legendary heroes had done that much good lately, in fact one had nearly been the death of them all.

Loghain MacTir's avian features swam up before Aedan's eyes, it filled him was a cold seething rage, a hatred that could annihilate a whole world.

_You will pay you bastard, you and that bitch of a daughter of yours! Howe didn't have the balls to destroy the Couslands, not without your protection, he probably did it on your orders didn't he, or at least you agreed; promised him your protection._

_**You will pay for that.**_

Loghain's betrayal still burned in his gut like fire, and the knowledge that Rendon Howe, the butcher of Highever now sat at his right hand.

It was just another reason to see both their heads on pikes over the Denerim gates.

Careful pup, his father's voice chided, avenging those you love is admirable, but do not forget your duty, a Cousland always does his duty.

Aedan cursed.

He wished that he could forget that, that he could just let go of his damn place as one of the Couslands.

Alas, that was not possible.

He was a Cousland to his very soul, his Maker damned soul.

Leliana glanced up from the cooking; she gave him a concerned look.

Aedan turned away. He had no time for the sister right now. They had spoken of the Maker since she had joined them back in Lothering, about his forgiveness and love.

Aedan scoffed, he had once been very much like Leliana, singing the Maker's praises from the top of his lungs. A blind righteous prat, he had come to hate that part of himself since Ostagar.

That Aedan had died with his parents, there was only the warden now, the warrior.

He was alright with that.

The world was vile, cruel, and wicked; Leliana would learn that in time, her faith in the Maker would not save those she cared about.

She would learn, like he did.

She would learn.

He found his eyes falling on Morrigan's little tent, as always separate from the others.

He walked towards it.

The witch never tried to make him feel better, to stop scowling, or advise him to seek forgiveness or forgive his murdering god.

Morrigan accepted him for who he was.

He appreciated that.

IOI

"Morrigan?"

The witch was lounging in her tent, going through mother's grimoire; a hint of amusement came to her eyes.

The warden was here.

She smiled slightly.

"Yes warden?" she purred.

"May I speak with you?"

"Certainly, I'm within my tent, you may enter."

Silence.

"Warden?" she said.

"Um…you…you wish me to come…into your tent?"

Morrigan chuckled.

"Tis cold old warden and I am not on watch, I desire to stay warm, should I not?"

"Um…ah…of course…"

"I am decent warden," she promised, "Not that I do not have anything you have not seen before."

"Don't tease," he sighed.

She smirked.

"Enter or do not, I care not which you choose."

It was a lie of course, she did want him to enter, and Mother's plan depended on it. She had hoped to find the particulars of it in the grimoire that Aedan had liberated from those circle fools, but so far nothing.

The book was merely a ledger it seemed, a list of Flemeth's past children, their training and preparation.

Why did Mother need such a book?

Morrigan did not know.

She lay it aside for now, the warden…Aedan required her full attention.

He slipped into her tent.

The witch was ready.

IOI

Aedan was trying very hard not to stare.

He sat near Morrigan's feet; the witch was wrapped in a heavy fur, which she was using as a bedroll up here in the mountains. Her long black was down for once, it tumbled down her back, she kept the fur pulled up to protect her modesty, beyond that she might be wearing nothing.

Aedan swallowed hard, feeling like a complete and utter idiot.

Women had always been a bit of a mystery to him, his faith had always sustained, and he had no need for mortal love…

At least…that is what he thought.

Fergus had offered to take him to _the Pearl_ when he was sixteen so that he would at least know what it was like to be with a woman, but he had refused.

It had felt like a betrayal of his faith.

What would he do in brothel?

Morrigan well…she gave him a few ideas.

"Hmmm?" Morrigan asked.

He cursed realizing that he had been staring at her.

"I'm sorry to disturb you," he grimaced, but I could not put up with the others a moment longer."

Morrigan laughed.

"Now you know why I camp so far away," she said, "I can only take so much from fools and twits."

Aedan chuckled.

That was exactly it.

Morrigan shifted deliciously under the fur, Aedan found his eyes drawn to the hidden curves of her body. Now that he was not hiding behind Andraste's skirts any longer…

He could not deny his curiosity about the opposite sex.

Morrigan smiled.

"I owe you my thanks," the witch said.

"You already thanked me for the book."

"Not the grimoire," she whispered, "For taking me out of the wilds, for not choosing to abandon me."

"You are needed here," he said, "I need you here."

She smirked.

He cursed at the suggestive nature of the look on her face, not that he could deny that it pleased him.

He nervously ran his hand through his shoulder length brown hair, he coughed.

Morrigan ignored his discomfort.

"I am aware that I have little talent for forming friendships," the witch admitted, "But you have chosen not to abandon me, you have accepted me into your world," she grinned, "My wild's addled imagination could not imagine the beauty of the outside world, the mountains, the great forests, even dirty little Redcliffe had a certain charm."

"Even with the undead," Aedan asked.

"They were troubling tis true, but it did not take away from the sight of a castle…whole and strong, or the shimmering lake, or the snow swept mountains we now march towards. Tis a most amazing sight Aedan and I'm grateful for the opportunity to see it."

_The beauty of the Maker's world, he did not see it anymore._

_That was not who he was anymore._

"These are just stumbling blocks in our path Morrigan," he said with a shake of his head, "Nothing more."

She wrinkled her nose.

"Does nothing please you anymore Aedan, does beauty no longer inspire you?"

He chuckled.

"I used to think beauty was a gift from the Maker," he said, "I'm not that naïve anymore."

Morrigan laughed.

"I'm not talking about the chantry twit and her religion," Morrigan sniffed, "I'm talking about true beauty, the beauty of the world in all its chaotic glory, beauty, ugliness, and death, these are the paints of the canvass of our world Aedan, far more interesting than the designs of some distant absentee father figure."

Aedan considered her words. He…he had not thought about it in such terms before, he had always linked beauty with the Maker's plan.

He never had thought to separate the two.

He had seen beautiful things on this journey, beauty unbound to the chantry. A pack of wolves bringing down a deer, a rainbow glistening over the shores of Lake Calenhad, and yes even the snow covered peaks of the Frostback Mountains towering above them.

These were all beautiful things, but paled in comparison to the vision before him.

Morrigan unbound, the wonder in which she saw the world, the hostility she had with the others placed aside in his presence.

This was true beauty, not the false beauty of the chantry, but as it truly was... unchecked and untamed.

He smiled thoughtfully.

"Is there nothing in this world that pleases you warden?"

He gave her a warm look.

"Somethings are more pleasing when they stand revealed," he purred.

The sound of his own voice shocked him, he…he did not speak this way.

It pleased Morrigan, she smiled hungrily.

"Tis true?" she asked.

"Yes," he said shyly.

She sat up, letting the fur fall away from her bosom, he…he did not look away; her fingers traced the burn scar on his face.

"Tis cold my tent all alone," she pouted.

He swallowed hard, but did not back away; it felt like a flood gate had been broken.

He did not want to stop.

"Would…would you like some company?" he asked her.

"You would stay with me then, you would stay here?"

He nodded, breathing heavily.

It only served to excite her.

"Whatever shall we do in such tight space by ourselves?" she giggled.

He smirked.

"Do you have an idea?" he asked.

"I believe so," she purred.

He stared hungrily at her.

"Show me," demanded.

She seized him by the shirt, grateful that he had not been wearing his heavy plate tonight. She attacked him hungrily. She pressed his hands to her breast, forcing her tongue into his mouth.

Aedan groaned, accepting the witch's desire, a heat that matched his own.

He had not meant for this to happen, to lay with her, but he was not about to stop now.

He wanted this, he wanted her so very much!

He would have her.

He pushed her down, pulling at his shirt and trousers, eager to be rid of them.

She threw off the fur revealing her pale body, unhidden by her leathers and feathered cloak.

He smiled savagely, he had always wondered what the witch wore when she slept, now he knew.

Nothing.

She pulled him down on top of her, she whispered in his ear, guiding him, teaching him, helping him find both his own pleasure and hers.

Aedan obeyed, he was a willing servant, a perfect body slave.

"Aedan," she cooed softly as he kissed her throat and collarbone, my warden…my Aedan."

The light of Morrigan's fire faded outside, and in the darkness the two found a new kind of beauty, one that was both wild and free.

…And theirs and their alone.

FIN

A/N: The Day takes place several months later, after the Andraste's Ashes Quest, and Orzammar. A slightly different Aedan, then the way he was in Night. Enjoy!

Part two: The Day

"Are certain about this Aedan?"

The warden chuckled.

"Is there a problem Leliana?"

The bard did not respond not right away, she was not used to seeing Aedan smile, but since the temple he seemed changed…more at peace with himself.

She would say it was the Maker's doing, but she knew better.

Aedan did not believe in the Maker's light. He made that quite clear back in Lothering. He had turned his back on his faith.

It was most disturbing.

"No Aedan," she said, "It is just disturbing," she lifted up a handful of his long brown hair."

"It is a shame to cut it all off," she confessed.

Aedan laughed.

"It is just hair Leliana," he reminded, "And besides it gets in the way when I wear my helmet, it is better to be rid of it."

"As you say," she admitted.

She had been surprised when he asked her to help him with this, he had seen her care for her own hair, and felt it best that she help him.

"I don't want to end up bald, he joked.

She had actually laughed at that.

The scissors that she had bought from Bodahn did their work well enough; soon Aedan's hair was as short as Alistair's.

He brushed off his shoulders, and turned to his warhound.

"What do you think Havard?'

The dog hid his eyes.

Aedan smirked.

"What do you know," he complained.

Leliana giggled.

Aedan turned to her. His smile became more thoughtful.

"It is nice to see you smiling again," he said.

She blushed under his regard.

Aedan…he…he had been nicer to her these last few months. He seemed more…upbeat, more willing to smile then he had.

She suspected Morrigan's involvement, she…she knew that the witch and Aedan had become lovers. She would be lying if she said she did not feel at least a twinge of jealousy. Aedan had…intrigued her since they had left Lothering. Alistair had told her about the loss of his family, how he had blamed the Maker for their deaths.

At first, she had wanted to help him, she understood that hopelessness, she had felt it herself, when Marjolaine had first betrayed her, left her to rot in the dungeons of Denerim raped and brutalized.

Aedan had not been open to her advances then…

Perhaps he was now.

_He is the witch's_, her conscience chided, _leave it alone._

Still she had not seen Aedan going to the witch's tent lately, had they had some kind of fight?

And why did she find herself wishing they had?

IOI

Aedan turned more serious.

Something had changed, it had only been a few months but so much had happened. They had fulfilled the Orzammar treaty, found the Urn of Sacred Ashes, and actually killed Flemeth, now they were on their way back to Redcliffe. Hopefully they would be in time, the ashes were supposed cure any ailment.

Aedan hoped that those stories were true.

They had done amazing things, seen amazing things, but everything was not perfect, he thought with a frown.

Morrigan had stepped away from him.

He would not deny it, it hurt, but what could he do, the witch was free woman, he had no desire to bond her to him if she did not want to be bound. He had even offered to return the ring she had given him, the one that allowed her to find him where ever he was.

She had refused, he had killed Flemeth and saved her life, the ring was his now, his to keep.

He would treasure it always, just like he would her.

The warden chuckled, it was ridiculous, he knew that, but Father had warned him once.

You never forget your first love pup. You will carry that affection for her forever.

Even when he took his final walk into the deep roads he would remember her, what they had shared, what she had given back to him.

It was priceless.

Slowly, the hate and anger had faded, he still wanted Howe dead for what he had done, but it no longer dominated his life. Going into Andraste's Temple had only finished what he had begun; the last of the old Aedan had faded away. He…he was something more now.

Was he something better? He could not say, but he hoped so.

He smiled at Leliana.

"Are you okay?" he asked the bard, "After everything with Marjolaine I mean."

Leliana winced.

"I'm doing better thank you," she managed a weak smile, "Our last discussion helped."

"The one about you not being like that bitch," he said.

Leliana laughed, she was not sure who this new Aedan was, but she liked him.

She liked him a lot.

"That is the one," she laughed, "You were right, I…I'm nothing like Marjolaine, I have come to find the love of the Maker, and as long as I hold that in my heart I will not falter. It drives me to do what is right."

Aedan gave her a sad look.

"I'm sorry," she winced, "I…I know how you feel about the Maker."

"No, it…it is not like that Leli," he sighed, "It…Maker save me this is hard."

"Yes," she said.

He took a deep breath, a small part of wished for a darkspawn attack right now.

It would easier to deal with than what he wanted to say.

He looked into her deep blue eyes.

He felt strengthened by them.

"I…I owe you an apology, more than one in fact," he said.

"There is no need."

"Actually there is plenty of need," he said, "I…I was taking my anger at the loss of my family on you since almost the moment we met. That was cruel and uncalled for. I understand that now. Since the temple…since…since I got to say goodbye to my father as was proper."

Aedan shook his head, he wiped at an offending tear.

"I just wanted to say I was sorry, for everything." He took his hand in hers.

She blushed at the gentleness of the gesture.

"I'm a bastard Leliana, I know that, and I gave you every reason to just leave me to rot in my own hatred and self-pity, but you did not stop, you stayed with me, tried to help me. I'm…I'm grateful for that."

"You said the Maker saved your soul after Marjolaine betrayed you," he continued, "Well…you saved mine, it is a bit tarnished, but…it feels like I have it again, because of you. Thank you."

IOI

She did something crazy then, something that she probably should not have, not knowing Aedan and herself.

But…she could not help it, the look in his eyes, the way he was touching her hands.

She leapt without looking.

She leaned in and kissed him.

Aedan's eyes widened in surprise, he lightly touched his lips.

Havard tilted his head like he was confused, unsure of what he had just seen.

Leliana bowed her head.

Maker what was that!

She was so stupid!

"I'm sorry Aedan," I…I should not have…"

He leaned in and kissed her again, and again.

Leliana felt her heart melt, Aedan…he…he was…

Oh Maker!

The warden took her into his arms, his hands found their way down her lower back, they squeezed her bottom.

She leapt into his arms wrapping her legs around his waist.

The rest of the camp was not impressed.

Shale and Sten turned away.

Wynne gave a loud cough.

Alistair blushed and went back to his supper.

Zev wolf-whistled at them.

Oghren snorted and belched.

Aedan and Leliana did not care.

He carried her back to her tent.

She broke their kiss, smiling wolfishly at him

""I have a new bedroll," the bard purred.

The warden chuckled.

"Is it big enough for two?"

"Oh yes," she said, "And very comfortable."

He grinned.

"Let's put it to the test," he said.

Leliana kissed him again.

She agreed completely.

IOI

Morrigan glanced up at the main camp.

She shook her head at what she had seen there.

Aedan and the chantry twit, it was not the most pleasing of sights.

But the wisest, she thought, I…I have gotten too close; I almost forgot what I was doing here.

The ritual, the wardens, the Archdemon, that was all that mattered now.

The witch sighed. She glanced and Leliana's tent, a scowl on her features.

It was better this way, Aedan deserved to find some happiness, he would not find it with her, not after she did what needed to be done.

The witch sighed heavily. She looked up at the sky; it was starting to lighten in the east.

The night was over.

Dawn was coming, and with it…a new day.

Both for her and Aedan, the witch shook her head.

Soon it would be time for the ritual.

_She hoped that he would be ready…_

_And…that he would forgive her._


	6. Apple-states

**Apple-states**

**9:20 Dragon Age**

"I need your help;" Aristide Amell said angrily, "My daughter needs your help. You can't just say no."

The Tevinter brother shook his head, Alecto Meradius, otherwise known as Brother Alec, was not a fool, he knew what the Kirkwall nobleman was asking him, and he knew what it would cost.

The brother could simply not do it.

He and Livia had been staying in a small inn outside of the capitol city of Rivain. Despite his best efforts, he had been forced to turn to the independent mage's collective here to make ends meet. The money he had managed to scrounge before they fled Tevinter was long gone. It was one of his collective contacts that had set up this meeting, ten sovereigns, just to speak with Aristide Amell of Kirkwall, the patriarch of his family.

Alec had agreed, but had he known what was to be discussed he might have refused.

Amell's eleven year old daughter had just come into her magic, and it was quite strong. The little girl had been living in exile the last three years, her life threatened by Perrin Threnhold, the Viscount of Kirkwall. Fortunately for Lord Amell, his servants were extremely loyal to him, not a one had sold out his little girl to the Templars, at least…not yet.

Amell was looking for an apostate mage to train the girl, to teach her to protect herself from the demons of the fade, and the Templars of Thedas.

Alec would have been lying if he said he was not tempted. The girl, this…Solona Amell was quite strong in magic, with the proper training…

The girl's power might not have any limits; she could likely grow into one of the most powerful mages in Thedas. Her power would be the envy of the greatest mages in Tevinter, and the fear of every servant in the chantry.

If the girl went to the circle, the Templars would likely make her tranquil, so great would be the fear of her power. Alec would not wish such a fate on any child, but he was a father himself, his duty was to protect Livia. Solona's power would be a beacon to his enemies, and to Amell's.

He could not risk his daughter's life like that.

If he agreed to train the Amell girl in magic, it meant that he and his daughter would be bound to the Amell family, not a good thing when you were hiding from the imperial authorities and the Templars. A word in the ear of the wrong people, a spy hidden in the noble house of Amell, and their safety would be at risk.

He could not do that.

Lord Amell gave him a cold look, the graying noble was far older than Alec would have expected, but then, again, he had married late; his wife and children were still fairly young.

Alec felt sorry for the man, but not enough to risk his and Livia's freedom.

He felt sorry for the man, but not that sorry.

"If this is about coin…" Amell said.

It is not," the sage replied, "Maintaining my safety and that of my daughter is paramount to me. If I was to take your daughter as an apprentice, we would be subject to your whims, and the anger of your enemies."

Lord Amell sighed.

"Perrin Threnhold's grip on Kirkwall is crumbling; it is all he can do to hold the city. My allies have cut off much of the support he has enjoyed. He is running out of time, and coin. He is a desperate man."

"Desperate men are the most dangerous of men," Alec replied, "When you have nothing to lose, you can afford to be dangerous, and I will not risk my daughter's life."

"What should I do then?" Amell said, "Contact the Templars? Let them take my little snowflake from me? The chantry already has my firstborn son; must they take my daughter too?"

He gave the Tevinter mage a hard look.

"What if it was your daughter? What would you do?"

Alec stood a little straighter, his eyes flashed with anger.

"Is that a threat?" he demanded.

IOI

In the other room Solona Amell shivered. The eleven year old, was quite thin with white-blonde hair and sapphire blue eyes. She tugged on her long braid, her hands were ice cold, tears ran down her cheeks.

She could hear her father yelling at the other man, and she knew it was because of her.

_She hated that Papa was mad, and she knew it was all __**her **__fault!_

It had started a month ago, she had been doing her lessons, well…she had been trying to do her lessons, but her Governess Lady Kitsch was just sooo boring, and it was so very hot in here. It was always hot in Rivain.

She missed the snow. She missed the mountains of their home in Kirkwall. She missed Mother and Father. She even missed Marius and little Daylen.

_She hated being alone. Why couldn't she just go home!_

She found herself imagining snow. How nice it was to play in, to hear it crunching beneath her booted feet.

She gasped as she felt a chill run down her.

The quill she was holding, and the ink she had just dipped it in, had frozen solid.

Snowflakes drifted from her pale fingers.

Lady Kitsch had ended the lesson when she had seen it; she made Solona go straight to her room.

_Why? I haven't been bad have I?_

"_Do as I say child, for the love of the Maker, please do as I say!"_

Solona had obeyed; Lady Kitsch was not to be questioned when she used that voice.

Lady Kitsch made her stay in her room, she had to stay. No trips into town, no visitors, she could not even go out and play.

"We don't want any Templars seeing you little one," her governess said.

A few weeks later, Father had arrived, she ran to him, her beloved Papa!

She had not seen him in three years!

She was definitely a daddy's girl, and she knew it. They talked for what felt like hours, just the two of them. Then he asked her about the inkwell and the quill.

It…it had not been the first time it had happened. She told him that she could make water boil sometimes to, just by sticking her finger in it.

_Papa did not seem surprised to hear that._

He nodded, listening intently. Though she saw the worry on his face, it scared her.

She had heard some of the servants talking before Lady Kitsch silenced them.

_The girl has magic._

_She is cursed._

_She is just another damned soul._

She was afraid those servants had spoken with her father, that he now thought she was bad...

That she was evil, that his little girl had become a monster!

She apologized, telling him, promising him, that she would be good.

He shushed her, telling her that there was nothing wrong with her. He simply needed to hire a new tutor, one who could help her control the cold and the heat inside of her.

She obeyed, her Father always knew best.

Now the strange man and her Father was arguing and she knew it was all her fault.

She did not want to make Father mad.

She wanted to be a good girl.

"Hi."

She looked up, a small red haired girl stood there, she was dressed a threadbare green dress, her hair in two long braids.

She smiled at Solona.

"Hi," Solona said shyly.

The girl approached her.

Solona backed away.

"Stay back," Solona whimpered, "I'm cursed."

"Really," the red head beamed, "What is that like?"

Solona was not sure how to respond.

"What do you mean?"

The other girl grinned.

"You want to see a magic trick?"

Solona nodded.

The girl held up her hand, she whispered strange words.

Red flame appeared in her hand.

Solona's eyes widened.

"How did you do that?" she asked.

"Magic," the other girl said, "I'm an apple-state."

"A…a what," Solona asked.

"An apple-state," the girl repeated, "Papa and I live free of the shantry. We are both apple-states."

The girl held out her hand.

"I'm Livia, you…you can call me Liv."

"So…Solona Amell."

"Lona, that is a pretty name," Liv grinned.

"Are you an apple-state too, Lona?"

"I…I don't know," Lona said nervously.

Despite her fear, despite father yelling at the other man…

The strange girl made her feel better

Solona wiped at her eyes.

"You…you are not afraid of me, truly?"

"Why should I be afraid?" the other girl asked.

Solona held up her hands.

"I can do this," she said.

She flexed her fingers.

Frost coated her hands, snowflakes danced in the hot dry air.

Livia squealed with delight.

"Do more magic!" the other girl said, "Please."

"I don't know magic," Solona said shyly.

"Papa could teach you," she said, "just like he is teaching me. Would you like to know how to do a fire spell?"

"Will it hurt?" Solona asked.

The little girl shook her head.

"The fire you make is a part of you," Liv said sagely, trying to mimic her father, "It won't burn you. Hold out your hand, like this."

Liv showed her how. Solona mimicked her.

"Now say…" Liv spoke the strange words again, slower this time, so that Solona could pick up every syllable.

Solona felt silly, but repeated those words.

Blue flame sprang to life in her hand.

An excited giggle came to her lips.

"Pretty," Liv said, "Like a little court dancer."

Solona smiled, she had seen a court dancer once.

The blue flame changed, it became a mirror image of dancer she had seen. The girl spun and stood on her tip toes, all in the palm of Solona's hand.

Liv's eyes widened in amazement, she...she had never seen magic like this.

Solona giggled, happy that she had amused her new friend.

The dancer bowed to the two girls then vanished.

Both girls laughed.

IOI

The sound of laughter in the hallway distracted the two arguing men. They both went out into the hallway. They opened the door shocked to see Liv and Lona smiling up at them.

"Livia?" Alec asked.

"Hello Papa," the red-head beamed.

"Lona?" Lord Amell said.

"Papa," the little blond girl said hugging him, "I know what I am now Papa! I'm an apple-state!"

Aristide looked at his daughter like she had gone mad.

Alec chuckled.

"Can you teach Lona, Papa?" Liv begged, "Please, she is really nice. It would be nice to have another apple-state to talk to."

"Lona," Lady Kitsch said down from the kitchens, "Your lunch is ready?"

The blond turned to her knew friend.

"Would you like some lunch?"

Livia looked up at her father.

"May I Papa? Please?"

Alec sighed, and nodded.

The two girls squealed and fled down the stairs talking excitedly.

"Don't run," Lord Amell ordered his daughter.

"Sorry Papa," she said from the bottom of the stairs.

The two girls disappeared into the kitchen.

Amell sighed; he turned to Brother Alec, looking to apologize for his daughter's behavior.

Alec had a smile on his face.

"I haven't seen Livia smile like that in months," he said, "Not since her mother…"

He sighed and shook his head.

He turned to Lord Amell.

"For my daughter's sake," he said, "I will take your daughter as my apprentice."

Lord Amell's eyes lit up. He shook the brother's hand vigorously.

"Thank you," he said, "Maker bless you ser."

Alec's cold look cooled his enthusiasm.

"But it will be on my terms," he said, "You must not interfere. It will be hard on Lona in the beginning, but I can help her, I promise you."

"I understand," Amell said nodding, "Teach my daughter how to hide her gift. I want her to live a happy normal life."

"She is a mage," Alec reminded him, "She will never have a completely normal life, and I can't teach her how to hide her magic, magic is not something that can be simply hidden away."

Amell looked like he was about to start arguing again, but Alec stopped him.

"I will teach her how to control it, to use it to serve her will, so that it will not control her. Once she has that control, only those she trusts will be able to see what she truly is. Her magic will serve her well."

The lord nodded, he understood what the man was telling him.

"Magic is meant to serve," Amell said, "not rule."

"Just so Milord," Brother Alec said a pleased expression on his face. The two men headed down the stairs, they looked in the on the girls eating and chatting excitedly.

Alec smiled.

"Exactly so."


	7. If Fate was Kinder

**A/N: This is just something I had rattling around my head lately. In **_**Viscountess Amell,**_** both Carver Hawke and my oc Livia Meradius are dead. This tale is what might have happened if they had both lived to meet in Kirkwall. I hope you like it.**

**If Fate was Kinder**

Kirkwall, the city of chains, once the center of the slave trade for the Tevinter Imperium, now an independent city of the Free Marches.

Carver Hawke was not impressed.

The young man sighed heavily as the boat took them from the Gallows to the mainland. They had been locked in the Templars' fortress for three days; he had feared that he would go stir crazy in there. Not to mention how scared poor Bethany was. His apostate sister had expected that any moment the Templars who tended the mages here would come outside, seize her by the shoulders and drag her inside.

That had not happened, fortunately, so far, Bethany remained undetected, and that was good.

Mother had sent her brother Gamlen a letter before they had left the port of Gwaren. During their wait in the Gallows, she had prayed that he would come for them, that the wealth of the Amell family would be enough to buy their way into overcrowded Kirkwall.

Carver was not so sure, and even if they did buy their way in, what then? This place…it felt so strange to him, this was about their mother reclaiming her old life, and keeping Bethany safe of course.

He did not see where he fit into all this; he did not even know where to start.

Then Gamlen had shown up with a hooded girl protected by two guards, and dwarf in a long duster coat. The girl had paid the bribes needed and the Hawke family had been allowed to board the boat to take them into the city proper. Garrett and Bethany had both been pleased to make it out of that place, but Carver found himself becoming more and more suspicious.

Why did this girl care that they make it into the city? What was she to them?

Their rescuer had not spoken to them until they were safely away from the Gallows.

The dwarf chuckled.

"Nice going Your Highnessness," he said, "Even I would not have recognized you."

"That was the idea Varric," the girl said removing her hood, revealing a familiar looking face with dark blue eyes, and almost white blond hair.

She smiled at the Hawkes.

"Welcome home cousins," she said, "I am Solona Amell, Viscountess of Kirkwall, it is good to meet you all at last."

Leandra Hawke gasped. She had heard that her uncle had become Viscount, and she had heard that he had died, but…

She never would have expected that the Viscountess herself would come to help them.

Mother managed her best curtsey, which was good considering she was sitting in a boat. Bethany did the same and Garrett gave the young ruler a slight bow.

Carver nodded to her.

It was not that he was ungrateful for her help, far from it, but…after everything that had happened he was still not sure if they had jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire.

_How would their noble cousin react when she learned that Bethany was a mage? Perhaps she would turn her over to the Templars, to avoid any scandal._

Carver would not stand for that, and at the same time, he had no intention of remaining in the keep as one of the Viscountess's pet Fereldans.

_A Hawke did not accept charity, a Hawke made his own way in the world._

It had worked so far for their family.

Still he was tired, and his ribs still ached where that Ogre had swatted him away. Garrett and Aveline had managed to kill the beast, but…

He…he had nearly died, if not for Bethany healing him after, he might have. Garrett and Mother had both been furious with him for charging the massive darkspawn alone, but what was he supposed to have done? Should he have let the monster harm Mother?

No, he would not do that.

Carver frowned.

Perhaps they **should** accept the Viscountess's hospitality, at least for the night. Food, a hot bath, and some clean clothes would be nice, he could not deny that.

And least they were out of the wretched Gallows.

That was one good thing at least.

IOI

Liv Meradius, apostate, lady in waiting, and best friend to Her Excellency, Viscountess Solona Amell made her way through the Viscount's Keep.

Hoping against hope that her friend would return from whatever secret mission she had left upon.

Liv liked life in the keep well enough, but…

…It was just so…boring.

Dressed all in green with her red hair down in two braids, the young apostate was a bit of an oddity in the royal court. Everyone knew of her closeness to the Viscountess, how her Father Alec Meradius was the Viscountess's tutor and chief advisor. Most of the nobles here in Kirkwall saw Liv's position as Lona's way of throwing her teacher's daughter a bone, that their friendship had been born of simple necessity, being so close in age.

Liv smiled.

Those people did not understand.

Her Father was not simply her friend's teacher and advisor, Alec Meradius was also Solona's Master, he had been training her to control her magic for almost ten years now. The Viscountess was a mage, just as he and his daughter were.

The young girl smiled.

_We applestates have to stick together_, she thought.

Liv smirked at the thought, as a little girl she could not say apostate, but as she had grown older she still used her child's version of the word.

Yes, she knew that the word for mages outside the chantry was 'apostate,' but she did not like that word. In fact, she despised it. It made it sound as if she was born with some horrible disease.

We're not all Maleficarum after all, she thought, why should all of us be lumped into with the blood mages and trouble makers?

Okay, perhaps she was a troublemaker, but there was no malice in her mischief, she just wanted to have fun! It was not her fault that she had been born with magic, yet the chantry and their Templars still felt that people like her needed to be locked up.

She did not see it that way, mages could no more help being born with magic then they could help being born either boys or girls.

She hated that the chantry treated them like second class citizens, just tools to be used or locked away. Maker save them, even elves were treated better than mages were.

She hoped that one day, Solona might change all that.

Two years ago, back in Orlais, she had almost died; a Templar had discovered her and asked her to…to…lay with him to keep or secret.

She had refused, quite spectacularly too, burning off the man's eyebrows. Lona had been understandably nervous, but amused by her bravado. Father, however, had been furious with her, and got the three of them out of Val Floret before anyone could be the wiser. They had not stopped until they had reached Val Chevin.

She had spent weeks on the outs with her Father for that little stunt, fortunately, he finally did forgive her.

Sharing his blood did account for something after all.

Life likely would have gone on like that, the three of them always moving, studying the craft, while staying one step ahead of the Templars.

That is when Lona had received the letter.

That is when everything had changed.

Solona's Father had passed away, leaving her with his Crown and his city. Her old friend had not looked back; she had come home without a single complaint and took the throne. Alec and Liv had joined her a few weeks later.

Now they were here, doing…well…this.

Livia sighed.

_Whatever this was?_

Lona was a skilled Viscountess, and her people were slowly staring to come to love her. Her greatest rival for the throne was Knight Commander Meredith Stannard, the Templar hero who had helped the nobles deal with the mad Viscount Perrin Threnhold eight years ago.

Liv smirked.

She could just imagine how pissed the iron bitch would be if she discovered that a mage was now ruling Kirkwall.

The look on her face would be priceless.

Not that Liv would ever say anything of course, oh no, she loved Lona too much to see her thrown to the chantry's attack dogs. Not to mention the fact that if anything happened to Lona, she and Father would likely be sharing cell in the Gallows right next to her. Provided they were not killed or made tranquil.

No, Liv would rather be dead than tranquil. She would not wish such a face on her worst enemy!

The apostate sighed.

She missed her old friend. Lona's duties kept her so busy. They only saw each other during training, and occasionally at political functions where she had to play the role of lady-in-waiting.

It…would have been nice if they could get out sometime, get out and do something fun!

They were mages after all, not chantry sisters.

Getting into a little bit of trouble was just what the healer ordered.

IOI

"What is she doing here?!"

Carver winced, they had not been in the keep five minutes and already someone was yelling at them. The graying blond haired noble woman did not seem at all pleased to see them…

…Or rather to see Mother.

Leandra Hawke did not back down, she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Hello Revka," she said coolly, "It has been a long time."

"Not near long enough," Revka said hotly.

Solona winced.

"Mother please," she said, "At least try to be civil."

"Daughter," Lady Revka said, "Do you not know what your cousin Leandra did?"

Before the Viscountess could answer, Mother stepped forward.

"What I did Revka was marry a good man, just as you did."

"You nearly doomed our family!" the Viscountess's mother said, "You were supposed to marry the Comte Delauncet."

"I never wanted that match."

"And…and if that wasn't bad enough," Revka continued, "When your parents, Andraste keep them died, you did not even return home for the funeral."

"The twins were only a week old," Leandra said hotly, "Father and Mother would have understood."

"What was to understand," Revka hissed, "You betrayed our family! You…"

"**MOTHER STOP!"**

The Viscountess's voice was like a crack of a whip.

Both Revka and Leandra Hawke fell silent.

Solona sighed.

"What happened in the past cannot be undone," she said, "Cousin Leandra had come home, her children have come home, and it is our duties as Amells to make them feel welcome. I will hear no more of these venomous comments. Despite what happened all those years ago, our family has thrived. We are stronger than ever. We can afford to be charitable to Leandra and her children. Is that clear Mother?"

Revka looked at her daughter in shock; it was rare that Solona stood up to her like that.

Carver waited for another big blow up, that mother and daughter would start fighting now.

It never came.

"As you wish…daughter," Revka Amell grumbled, "I shall hold my tongue, but you should try and understand all our family suffered for Leandra's choices."

"They were her choices to make Mother," Solona added.

"Indeed," the elder noble sighed, "If you excuse me daughter, I suddenly feel faint. I…I think I shall retire to my rooms."

Solona said nothing more, she simply let her go.

Carver hated to admit it, but he was impressed.

Perhaps they were related to the Viscountess after all.

Leandra Hawke curtseyed.

"I'm sorry Your Excellency," she said, "I…I did not wish to cause any problems."

"Nonsense," Solona said, "We are family, and family looks out for each other. It is time to make peace. Your betrothal to the Comte was years ago, no one will hold that choice against you, not as long as I am here."

Garrett Hawke nodded.

"Thank you Your Excellency," he said.

"Think nothing of it Cousin," she replied, "And it is just Cousin Lona. We are blood after all."

The Viscountess smiled.

"If you will follow the servants, they will see to your needs. I have business that needs attending to; we shall talk again at dinner."

Carver sniffed as far as dismissals went, that wasn't that bad, and he would be lying if he said the prospect of food and a chance to get cleaned up did not sound good.

He had been running since he fled the field at Ostagar.

It would be nice to stop and rest…

…at least…

…For now.

IOI

Word of the Hawkes arrival spread like wildfire.

Livia had spent the last few hours trying to meet them all one by one.

The first had been that soldier Aveline, not a Hawke, but someone who owed them her life. Lona had put her up in the guard barracks for now. She seemed more comfortable there than anywhere else.

_She'll make a fine addition to the Viscountess's guard that one_.

Miss Leandra had seemed nice enough. She seemed very curious about Livia, asking her a lot of questions about her old friend.

Liv had been careful not to say anything about Solona's magic to the older woman, just to be safe of course. The fewer people who knew Lona's secret the better.

Garrett, the eldest son seemed charming enough, a bit of rascal that one. His Mabari warhound surprised her, she had heard about the dogs of Ferelden, how they were intelligent and carry out complex orders. It was quite an interesting sight to see.

Liv was pleased with Garrett coming here.

_Maybe he can help me get Lona into trouble every now then…she definitely could use the break._

Bethany, the young girl, was actually the same age as Liv was and a fellow applestate to boot. She had sensed Lona' secret and seemed pleasantly surprised to meet yet another mage living here in the keep.

Liv liked her almost immediately; she had heard Varric, that dwarven scoundrel that Lona liked to do business with call her Lady Sunshine, the nickname certainly fit.

A little more light into the oppressive darkness of the keep, such a thing was always welcome.

She was on her way to meet the last of the Hawkes. Bethany's twin brother, what was his name? Culver, Carter…?

No, she remembered Carver that was his name.

Pleased with herself she knocked on the door.

"Yes what is it?" a gruff voice called from within.

That gave her pause, for a moment anyway, the rest of the Hawke's had been downright sociable.

Oh well, she did not give up easily.

"Um…uh…hello," she said, "I'm here on behalf of the Viscountess. I came to see if…"

It was a lie sure, but a believable one, she was still trying to feel out all the new arrivals, make sure if they were either a friend or a threat to her, Lona and Father.

She heard a frustrated sigh, followed by the door being unlocked. The youngest Hawke flung the door open.

"And what does my dear cousin need?" the annoyed young man said.

Liv froze, her green eyes widened, and her jaw dropped.

She…she… had…uhhh.

_Oh my!_

The man standing before her was…quite handsome, clearly related to Lona, he had the Amell blue eyes and dark hair, only Lona's was blond, a trait she inherited from her mother.

He…he was also naked from the waist up, she must have interrupted him, water glistened on his bare chest.

Liv felt her mouth go dry.

_Hello shoulders._

Carver rolled his eyes.

"Yes," he sighed, "You said my cousin needed something?"

_Perhaps there is something I can do for you,_ she thought, _like a back rub? _

She was blushing now.

He was glaring at her now.

Right, say something.

She managed a nervous smile.

"Oh…um…hi," she said giving him a cheery wave, "I'm available…"

She gasped.

Oh Maker…had she just said that out loud!

"LIVIA!" she corrected herself, "My name is Livia. I'm available if you need anything."

For the first time this…well this handsome warrior smiled.

He…he has a nice smile, she thought shyly.

He chuckled.

"I'm Carver," he said turning away from her, scooping up a shirt one of the servants had found for him.

Liv felt a surge of feminine disappointment as he slipped it on.

Guess the show is over.

Her eyes widened.

Andraste save me, what is wrong with me tonight?!

Carver turned to her.

"Forgive me," he said curiously, "But you don't look like a servant here?"

"I'm not…not really. I serve Her Excellency like we all do, but…"

She cursed under her breath, she was babbling like an ill-educated idiot.

Father would be appalled.

"The Viscountess and I grew up together," she said, "My father is her tutor. We…we have known each other for almost ten years now. I'm her friend, her confidant."

Liv smiled.

"We're practically sisters."

"Good for you," he replied dryly, "You said my cousin needed something?"

Oh…right…she had said that hadn't she?

She tried to think up a good lie, something besides the fact that she wanted to meet them all.

"She…uhh…she just wanted to make sure that you did not need anything," Liv managed to croak, "I'm at your service if you need anything."

She pursed her lips.

That sounded better in her head…not so…suggestive.

Of course, if he wanted something…more suggestive…

She might be convinced to aid him.

Again he gave that irritated sigh.

"I don't need to be waited on," he said harshly, "You can go back to my cousin and tell her that."

The tone of his voice killed most of the honeyed daydreams that she had.

"Have…have I done something wrong?"

The hurt in her voice pulled him up short, he gave her a look…not concerned but…something close.

"I…I'm sorry all right," he managed, "I've had a rough time, and…well…I'm not very good company right now."

He shook his head.

"You can tell my cousin that I need nothing right now, that I will see her for dinner."

Liv nodded, and gave him a curtsey fleeing the room before she said anything else stupid.

Part of her was grateful to be away from the irritated yet fascinating young man, but another part…

Those broad shoulders, the water glistening on his bare chest, the blush darkened in her cheeks.

_Mmmm._

She was not the type of girl to be dazzled by a handsome man. As an applestate, that could be quite dangerous, but…he was Lona's cousin so…

She smirked.

"She would need to speak with her cousin, and perhaps this Bethany girl too, there was a lot she needed to know about this Carver Hawke.

The next time they spoke she did not want to sound like some blithering idiot.

She wanted to be charming, fetching even!

She chuckled nervously.

Andraste save me, Father would have a fit!

But…if she could make Carver smile again, it would be totally worth it…

_Totally._

**A/N: So what did you all think? Originally I toyed with having Liv and Carver in **_**Viscountess Amell**_**, but that faded by the wayside alas. If you liked this let me know. I might do more with the pair in the future. Up next, Elissa Cousland as you have never seen her before. Until next time my readers.**

**DG**


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